


Unconditional Forgiveness

by trash_freak



Series: RickMorty Trash Pile [6]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, Incest, Incest Kink, Intimidation, M/M, Manipulation, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, dubcon, like actually pretty heavy incest in this one whaaat, rick's drunk morty is painfully sober, that's a thing that features here what have i become
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_freak/pseuds/trash_freak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick gets drunk. Morty forgives him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconditional Forgiveness

Rick’s drunk and getting drunker, chugging at a bottle, bad-tempered in the passenger seat as Morty navigates them home.

“Pull over,” he slurs in a barely comprehensible mess, but Morty ignores him as coldly as he can.

When Rick wants to get shit-brained in the safety of their own home, Morty doesn’t have much of a problem with that. When Rick wants to disappear with a couple of alien chicks, leaving Morty alone in a dive bar with a worryingly relaxed stance on the blatant sexual acts happening in every corner, and comes back so drunk he can hardly walk, then Morty will get as pissy as he wants about it. And he wants to get mighty fucking pissy.

“Morty, w-will you pull f- _oughhh_ -ckin’ over, you little _bitch_ ,” Rick snaps loudly, throwing his bottle down to clatter among the other empties and thumping his fist on the passenger door.

“No,” Morty replies, clipped, throwing a glare at his drooling grandpa slumped over next to him.

“Look, I din’t fuck ‘em, Mor- _ouergh_ ty, it was- it wus a- it was a business transaction, Morty.”

“You’re- y-y-you- you’re disgusting right now, Rick. Let’s ju-just go home, a-a-and, I dunno, get some rest or something.”

Rick’s staring when Morty glances over, looking frustrated and unstable, but Morty refuses to be intimidated.

“I’m not feelin-“ Rick starts darkly, interrupted by a violent hiccup that could be a dry-heave. Morty doesn’t care if Rick hurls – it’s not _his_ ship they’re riding in. “I’m not feelin’ all too _patient_ right now, Morty. _Pull. Over._ ”

“Yeah, w-w-w-well I’m not- I’m not feeling too patient either, _Rick._ You left me! To go get hammered with- with a pair of strangers! We w-w-were supposed to be finding some stupid rock for your _‘science’_ ,” Morty spits. “Not getting so shit drunk I had to carry you to the car!”

Morty’s tirade is cut short before he can add more, his voice tilting up in a high yelp as Rick grabs hard at the back of his hair and _pulls,_ his face getting right up next to Morty’s, teeth bared in anger.

“You think you’re fucking hot shit, little boy? I’m not asking again.” He squeezes painfully hard at Morty’s knee, and Morty finally obeys and brakes.

He’s shoved against the driver door instantly, the handle digging in right next to his spine.

“Rick, y-you’re hurting me,” Morty says in a quiet squeak, and Rick presses harder. Morty can practically feel the bruises already.

“You thin- _in_ k ‘cause you get my dick hard I’m gon’, _eurgh,_ let you do wha-whatever th- _errgh_ fuck you want? Huh?” Rick growls, words blurring together, broken with hiccup-burps that reek of eye-wateringly strong alcohol. Morty blames that for the tears.

“No, Rick, I-I-I-“

“Shuddup, you annnnoying little shit-stain.”

Morty shuts up.

“I’m driving,” Rick says, stern, pulling Morty over towards the passenger side until he’s sitting in Rick’s lap, knees either side of Rick’s hips.

“I don’t think-“

“I know you don’t,” Rick cuts in, impatient. “Y-you never fucking do, dumbass.”

“Rick-!”

Rick’s teeth are at Morty’s shoulder, Rick’s hands clumsy but strong, gripping tight at Morty’s waist, and there’s nowhere to run to even if Morty _could_ wriggle free.

Morty knows, he _knows_ Rick won’t stop, so he doesn’t tell him to, goes limp instead, relaxes into Rick so Rick will stop holding on so hard.

It works; Rick’s hands gentle, Rick’s tongue lapping at the grooves his teeth have left in Morty’s pale skin. Rick’s half hard despite the fact his blood is probably just pure alcohol right now. Morty reasons that if he gets Rick off he’ll probably fall asleep, and then Morty can drive them both home in peace.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Rick,” Morty hums, petting through Rick’s wild hair. “Will y-you forgive me,” Morty hesitates, face bright red, heart in his throat, praying he’s right about what he’s about to say. Please, let this speed things up. “W-will you forgive me if I m-make it up to you, granddaddy?”

Rick gasps beneath him, hips twitching up, and Morty feels a rush of hot shameful pride, the slightest stirrings of unwanted arousal.

“You- you always take such good care of me,” Morty continues, murmuring close to Rick’s ear, letting his hand creep down Rick’s chest and belly towards his belt. “I know you’re tired. L-l-let me help you relax.”

Rick hums, so drunk he’s just mumbling inaudible nonsense now, but he’s nuzzling up under Morty’s chin, effectively placated. Morty undoes Rick’s belt for him, unzips him to pull out his now hard dick, and he’s a lot clearer-headed here than he usually is; he’s not stupid with want like he usually is. 

Rick’s eyes are vacant, now, dazed, by drink and lust, his hips rolling up all uncoordinated, slack mouth wet with drool. The small space is permeated with the harsh smell of booze and sweat and sex and it’s catching in Morty’s throat, making him want to gag.

“Come on, Rick,” he whispers, to himself more than anything, but Rick’s not quite fully out of it and his eyes focus a little more on Morty’s face when he speaks. “Come for me, granddaddy,” Morty urges, wanting it over, wanting to go home and sleep forever. He plasters himself up against Rick, knowing Rick’s too drunk to know or care that Morty’s not quite hard. “You want my m-mouth on you, Rick? W-wanna- wanna feed me your come?”

Rick’s panting, grabbing at Morty too hard and mumbling words Morty can’t catch. Morty wracks his brain for ideas, for kinks Rick has, but he’s not used to being the one in control and he isn’t enjoying it as much as he might under other circumstances.

He licks at Rick’s ear, rubs at Rick’s nipple with one hand while his other aching arm speeds up, and says, low and breathy like he’s into it: “Wanna fuck my throat, Rick? Hold me still? Pull my hair and feel me choke on your big dick? You wanna-?” He shouldn’t say it, he shouldn’t put the idea out there, don’t say it- “You w-w-wanna bend me over, Rick? Wanna fuck my tight ass, granddaddy?”

Finally, Rick’s coming, clutching at Morty and biting at his neck, and Morty’s sort of horrified, and he’s filled with a buzzing swarm of conflicted emotions, and he’s scrambling away from Rick’s now slack hands, grabbing at a discarded take-out box and throwing up the meagre contents of his stomach; mostly bile and fear.

He presses down on his own semi hard-on angrily, throat closed up in revulsion, and takes one long, shaky breath. Get it together, Morty. _Get it together._

He drives them back in silence, Rick’s snoring the only sound. When they get home he throws the take-out box away, and leaves Rick asleep in the passenger seat.

There isn’t much sleep to be had, himself. Morty dreams of an unsettling dark bar, floor sticky with alcohol, and a huge, unrelenting monster with clumsy hands and a rough, slurring voice. It calls him baby, and holds him down, and doesn’t stop even when he begs it to. 

-

At breakfast, Rick’s absent, and Morty worries about it until Jerry derails everything by casually gesturing first at Morty and then at his own neck, asking, “Who’s the lucky girl, then, Morty?” with an embarrassing air of pride.

Suddenly Morty’s toast is the most unappealing thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and he stands to take his plate to the kitchen, grabbing his school bag as he throws out, “Oh, uh, n-no one, that’s, uh, that’s nothing.” He disappears into the kitchen before anyone can question him, and makes his way discreetly out of the house to face school and escape his family’s nosey expressions.

By the time he gets home he’s two hours later than usual, after putting off returning by lurking about the library getting his homework done early for once. The house is quiet, seemingly empty. It’s strangely unsettling.

“Anyone home?” Morty shouts out, making his way to the kitchen in search of food.

“Just the two of us,” Rick replies once Morty reaches the doorway.

He’s leaning casually against the kitchen counter, sipping from a mug. 

“Oh, uh, okay,” Morty mumbles, turning to go back the way he came.

“Hey, hey, hold your horses, Morty, where’s the- where’s the fire, huh?”

Morty feels the fleeting hope that maybe Rick doesn’t remember, until he notices the leer Rick’s face has become.

“Got quite a little mouth on you, huh, Morty?” Rick comments, offhanded, like he hasn’t just made Morty’s stomach turn to lead.

“So, uh. We’re not pretending y-you don’t remember that?”

“You kidding?” Rick says with a delighted grin, eyes twinkling. “The stuff that came outta your mouth? I’ll remember that a long time, baby.”

Morty cringes; looks down and away and ruffles the back of his hair nervously. It seems obscene, Rick calling him that right now, in the kitchen in the middle of the day. 

“Aw, geez, Rick, can we j-just wa- just go and watch TV a-and act like a normal family for once?” He looks up at Rick, pleading, and adds, “ _Please?_ ”

Rick softens, smile going almost sweet, and relents, says, “Aw, hell, how can I say no to m-my favourite grandson, huh?”

Morty struggles not to step back as Rick moves into his space to rest a hand on his shoulder, right where the nastiest bite mark sits. When Rick’s thumb digs in a little, Morty gasps, grabs at Rick’s wrist; to move Rick’s hand away, maybe, or to keep it there.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to scare you, last night,” Rick mumbles, like it’s hard to say. “Running off like that. I… I shouldn’t have left you.”

It’s not really an apology. That doesn’t escape Morty’s notice. And it seems deliberate, the way Rick doesn’t mention what happened on the way home. Still, Morty will take what he can get, and right now Rick’s gentle and seemingly repentant, so Morty nods.

“It’s, uh, it’s okay, Rick, just… just don’t leave me someplace like that again, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Morty,” Rick says, petting Morty’s hair briefly. “Let’s go watch TV.”

When Rick takes Morty’s hand to guide him to the living room, Morty wonders why his chest feels so full and quivering. And later, cuddled up beside Rick, watching mindless TV as Rick cards sleepily through Morty’s curls, Morty wonders how long it’ll be before Rick’s that drunk again.

**Author's Note:**

> idk man. do i like this? idk maaaaan.  
> rick's a shit and i wanted to make that clear.  
> is it clear, guys? do you get how shit he is?  
> can i continue the soft manipulation now and make mort mort fall in love with this fuck up
> 
> oh gosh how is this car crash even gonna end i'm scared for them both


End file.
